Jessie Hunt 13-The Perfect Impression by Blake Pierce (ebook reader online free .txt) 📗

any chance ofcatching the person who stabbed Gabby Crewe to death.

That thought led her quickly to another one. The murder weapon wasn’tany old knife; it was a steak knife, there as part of a room service order, asindicated by the tray on the dresser. She turned back to Barksdale.

“Do you guys at least keep track of room service orders?” she asked.

“Of course,” he answered. “We’re not Philistines.”

“Then you have a record of the order for the Crewes’ suite last night?”

Barksdale’s fingers few across the keyboard again.

“Yes,” he said. “An order of steak, eggs, and toast was placed at tentwenty-two p.m. It was delivered at ten thirty-six by our on-call room servicewaiter, Esteban.”

“Where is Esteban now?” she asked.

“In the kitchen,” Barksdale said. “Even with everything going on, we’restill getting orders.”

“Can you ask him to come up here, please?”

Barksdale called the kitchen and made the request.

“He’s on his way,” he said as he hung up.

“His name is Esteban, but everyone calls him Tex,” Peters said frombehind, making both of them jump. “I could have told you that he delivered theorder to the room.”

“Why didn’t you?” Jessie asked once she’d regrouped.

“I’ve been a little busy, Hunt,” he said defensively. “He was my first interviewwhen I got here. He’s the one who was bringing up another order when MelissaFerro came out of Gabby Crewe’s room screaming. I was able to confirm that hewas running around all night, dropping off orders.”

“It’s true,” Barksdale confirmed, looking at the screen. “I have himdelivering four orders during that hour from about ten twenty to eleven twenty,including the one to the Crewe suite. It’s hard to imagine Esteban murderinganyone, much less in that amount of time.”

“I’ve seen stranger things,” Jessie told him before turning back toPeters. “That’s not the point though. I’ve been desperately trying to create anaccurate timeline, using a bunch of drunk people as my guide. Even if we eliminatethe waiter as a suspect, this gives us a narrower time of death.”

“How?” Barksdale asked.

“We believe that Steve Crewe was in the bar at ten twenty-two,” sheexplained. “That means the order was almost certainly placed by Gabby. So weknow she was alive at that point. Did you ask Tex if she answered the door whenhe brought the food?”

“No,” Peters admitted.

“She didn’t,” someone said from across the lobby.

Jessie turned around to see a handsome Latino in his early twentiesstriding toward them.

“Tex, I presume?” she asked.

“A nickname I didn’t ask for,” he answered in a thick drawl that wasclearly the source of the moniker. “My name is Esteban Mejada.”

“Okay, Esteban,” she said, deciding not to waste any time onpleasantries. “So you were saying she didn’t answer the door.”

“That’s right. I knocked, waited about thirty seconds, and knockedagain. No one answered so I put the tray down, noted the time on the ticket,and went back to the kitchen for my next order, which I knew would be ready bythen.”

“Is that common?” she asked. “For a guest not to answer?”

“Sure,” he said. “The guest might have fallen asleep or be in thebathroom. If I can’t get a signature confirmation, I’m just supposed to notethat, along with the time, to verify that I actually completed the delivery soI don’t get in trouble if it’s stolen. Technically, I’m also supposed to take aphoto of the tray in front of the door with the room number visible, but we’rekind of lax about that.”

“Did you hear anything when you dropped off the tray?” she asked. “Loudvoices? Music? The TV?”

“I honestly couldn’t say,” Esteban replied. “I’m moving so fast and droppingoff so many orders most nights that it all starts to blend together. And like Isaid, I had another order pending so I was anxious to get right back down tothe kitchen.”

“And that was the last time you were on the fifth floor until you foundMrs. Ferro running out of the room screaming?” Peters confirmed, apparentlytrying to make up for his shoddy questioning earlier.

“Yes,” Esteban said, blushing. “I was bringing up an order for room504.”

Jessie wondered what that was about. Glancing at the computer screen,she saw an asterisk next to the order.

“What does that mean?” she asked, pointing at it.

Barksdale seemed at a loss for words. Esteban leaned over to get a lookat the screen.

“The asterisk?” he said. “That just indicates that the order includestableside service. Since that takes a bit longer, it alerts the kitchen thatthe waiter is temporarily unavailable and a cook may need to run other ordersup until the waiter returns.”

Jessie frowned at the screen.

“Champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries requires tablesideservice?” she asked.

Esteban shrugged.

“For something decadent like that, some folks like us to make a bigfuss.”

Before he could elaborate, a voice crackled over the radio. It wasDooley.

“I found Theo Aldridge,” he said.

“Where?” Peters asked anxiously.

“Out back by the rose garden; he’s not doing great.”

Jessie looked at Barksdale, who pointed at a pair of French doors atthe other end of the lobby.

“The garden’s that way.”

Peters was already sprinting in that direction, with Jessie rightbehind him.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

As they burst through the French doors, it took a moment for Jessie’seyes to adjust to the darkness.

Dooley, dimly visible in the distance, waved at them from across theway. When they reached him, they found a figure on his knees in the dirt by therose garden. He was bent over, hugging his stomach and rocking back and forth.

“What’s going on?” Peters asked, trying to catch his breath.

Before Dooley could reply, the figure made a violent retching sound.The noise echoed loudly, temporarily drowning out the sound of the ocean, whichwas only a hundred yards away. After what felt like an eternity, it stopped.

“This is where I found him,” Dooley said. “I didn’t see him at firstbut it wasn’t hard to follow the sound.”

Jessie knelt down next to the man. She recognized him from the CatalinaBallroom earlier, though she hadn’t realized who he was at the time.

“How are you doing, Mr. Aldridge?” she asked.

“Better now,” he croaked. “I think I got it all out.”

“That’s good to hear, because I’ve got a few questions for you.”

“I didn’t kill Gabby,” he muttered as he wiped